


before the storm

by darlingargents



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Post-IT (2017), Psychic Stanley Uris, Rule 63, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: It was mid-morning on a hot July day, the summer after tenth grade, and Sara was reading in her room when Ruthie knocked on her window.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	before the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerdayghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdayghost/gifts).



It was mid-morning on a hot July day, the summer after tenth grade, and Sara was reading in her room when Ruthie knocked on her window.

Sara heard her before she got to the window, of course; Ruthie was never as quiet as she thought she was as she climbed up the tree and onto the roof. But Sara’s parents never heard, and that, Sara supposed, was the important part. She feigned surprise anyway, widening her eyes in faux-disbelief as Ruthie tapped on the window.

Ruthie stuck her tongue out — definitely childish, but Sara knew that they were both childish around each other — and tried to pull it open herself. Sara got up and unlocked it for her, and she ducked under the sash and landed light-footed on the floor like a cat. Her feet were bare and dirty already from climbing the tree, her Converse tied by the laces and hanging around her neck.

“Hey,” Sara said, knowing that there was no point in asking Ruthie to keep her dirty feet off her bed. Ruthie winked at her, like she knew exactly what Sara was thinking, and dropped her shoes on the ground and hopped up on Sara’s bed, picking up the book she had been reading.

“Is this a school assignment? Charles Dickens, really?”

Sara followed her to the bed and pulled the book out of her hands. “For every book I finish in the summer, my parents give me five dollars.”

“Really? I should try that.”

“You wouldn’t be able to finish a book, Ruthie.”

“Rude.” Ruthie flopped onto her back and flung an arm dramatically over her face. She was in shorts that showed off every bruised inch of her legs, a tank top that exposed sunburnt shoulders and a narrow sliver of her stomach, and a pair of sunglasses were hanging out the front pocket of her shorts. Sara noticed, with a certain amount of amusement, that Ruthie’s hair was still in its two braids, unravelling at the ends, that Ruthie’s mother put her hair into every single morning. Ruthie hated them; she undid them as soon as possible and stuck her hair in a bun or ponytail, and fantasized aloud to Sara about the day she could cut it all off. She must’ve come straight from her house to Sara’s, not stopping for even a moment; the thought made her stomach feel fluttery in a way that she wasn’t sure she liked.

“Why are you here?” Sara prodded as she bookmarked her place in _Great Expectations_ and put it in its spot her on desk. Furtively, she nudged Ruthie’s shoes off her rug with her foot.

“Wanna go to the quarry?”

Sara looked outside doubtfully. It was sunny, but she was pretty sure it was going to storm later. (She always knew. She would call Ruthie and Edie and Billie on school mornings to let them know to bring an umbrella. Sometimes Ruthie didn’t listen, and had to borrow Eden’s umbrella on the way home, complaining the whole way.)

(Sara kind of hated how adorable she found Ruthie’s complaining.)

She was pretty sure, however, that it wasn’t going to rain until late afternoon, and that was enough time to get there and back.

“Sure. Let me grab my bathing suit.”

“Don’t be a baby. Go in your underwear.” Ruthie sat up and grabbed her hand, looking at her with puppy-dog eyes. Sara’s heart fluttered dangerously.

“Fine.” She grabbed her backpack anyway, put her book in, and ignored Ruthie’s looks. “I’ll meet you on the street.”

Ruthie blew her a kiss, put on her sunglasses over her regular glasses, and grabbed her shoes. She hopped out the window and landed on a tree branch, wobbling a bit before catching her balance.

Sara watched her for a moment, descending the tree, before going downstairs.

♥♥︎♥︎

“I brought snacks,” Sara announced when they got to the quarry and dropped their bikes. (Well, Ruthie dropped her bike. Sara put down her kickstand.) “Apples, lemonade, and pretzels. And grapes.” She’d also brought a blanket; she spread it on a cleared area and sat down, kicking off her shoes. Ruthie pulled off her own shoes and sat down next to Sara, grabbing a bottle of lemonade when Sara offered it. Sara took a handful of pretzels and offered the bag to Ruthie.

“You always go all out,” Ruthie said, admiring. “Ooh, it’s the good pretzels, my parents never buy that stuff.” She took a handful and started unravelling one of her braids with her other hand as she shoved them all her mouth at once.

Sara couldn’t stop watching, for a moment, as the sun reflected the gold strands of her dark hair. She pulled her eyes away when they drifted to the line of Ruthie’s neck as she shook out her hair.

“Ugh,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, made wavy by the braids. She twisted it all up into a single bun and Sara realized, as she tied it in place, that she hadn’t touched the pretzels in her hand since Ruthie touched her hair. She looked down and ate one quickly, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

She hadn’t thought she was going to avoid Ruthie this summer, but if this kept happening, she might have to.

♥♥︎♥︎

They ate the snacks for a few minutes, Ruthie talked about burning her school papers with a relish that Sara couldn’t stop herself from laughing at, and then Ruthie jumped to her feet, all lanky limbs and explosive energy, pulling Sara up with her.

“Let’s go,” she said, and pulled off her tank top. Sara looked away, feeling her blush going down her neck, and pulled her dress over her head as Ruthie kicked off her shorts and dropped her sunglasses on top of her clothes.

When they were both stripped down, Ruthie looking as relaxed as ever and Sara feeling exposed and naked, Ruthie took her hand, and they took the cliff at a run.

A delighted scream ripped out of Sara’s throat as they fell down, down, and hit the water, shockingly cold and wonderful against her overheated skin. She kicked off the bottom and rose to the surface, running her fingers through her hair. (She should’ve tied it back, like Ruthie; the curls were going to be unbearably tangled.) Ruthie grinned at her from a couple feet away, and they swam over to the shallow area without saying a word.

As soon as Sara’s feet touched the ground, Ruthie splashed her. Sara coughed and spluttered, and flung out one arm in Ruthie’s direction. Ruthie laughed and dodged Sara’s weak attempt, and swam around behind her and wrapped her arms around Sara’s neck.

Sara froze in place, but Ruthie didn’t notice; she kicked Sara’s feet out from under her and they went down together under the water.

The water war lasted maybe five minutes before Sara found a rock to sit on and refused Ruthie’s attempts to drag her back into it. Ruthie pulled off her glasses, now with water running down them, and folded them before tucking them into her bra. The rock was big enough for both of them; Ruthie climbed up and nudged Sara over to give herself enough room.

“You’re gonna break your glasses if you keep swimming in them,” Sara said, and Ruthie shrugged, looking around and seeing practically nothing.

“I have an old pair somewhere.”

“They have a massive crack in them.”

“Whatever.” Ruthie took Sara’s hand, and Sara went still. Ruthie flipped it over and ran her fingers down the back of Sara’s hand, over the blue veins and the ridges of Sara’s bones.

Sara’s breath was caught in her chest until Ruthie let go and rubbed her hands down her thighs like she was trying to get the feeling of Sara’s skin to go away.

“I miss hanging out,” she said quietly, and Sara realized, suddenly, just why she was being so affectionate. They were still friends, all of them were, but she and Ruthie didn’t spend much time together anymore; whenever all of them were together, it was like _something_ wanted them to be apart. It was strange and hard, during the school year; summers were better.

Sara spent a lot of time wondering what, exactly, she’d forgotten. She didn’t know; that was the whole point of forgetting. But she had dreams every night that she couldn’t remember, and she knew her friends did, too; and there was always something between them, when they were together, something that felt almost physical.

She could feel them moving apart, like diagonal lines; soon, they’d stop being parallel and keep moving apart, never to join again.

Ruthie kicked the water, some of it splashing up on Sara’s already-drying thigh. “What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know,” Sara said, only half-truthfully, and Ruthie sighed. She put her glasses back on, squinted through smudges, and hopped back down into the water, holding a hand out to Sara.

“Wanna go back up?”

“Sure,” Sara said, and took Ruthie’s hand.

Ruthie pulled her down, and bit her lip, looking at Sara for a long moment. Sara didn’t move; something felt important, unbreakable—

Ruthie kissed her.

It took Sara a moment to even realize what was happening, and by the time she’d processed it, Ruthie had turned around and started wading to the shore and the path up to the top of the quarry. The sun reflected off her skin, and Sara, frozen, could only look at her: her bra and underwear wet and clinging, the massive, yellowing bruise on the back of her right thigh, the scrapes on the sides of her arms from running through the woods too fast, the strands of dark hair escaped from her bun and sticking to her neck.

On the shore, Ruthie turned around and waved at her. “Hello, Sar? You coming?”

Sara nodded, mechanically, and followed her. She could feel the anxious energy coming off Ruthie, as hard as she was trying to hide it, and the longer she stayed silent as they climbed up the path to the top of the quarry, the more anxious Ruthie got.

The thing was, Sara had known. Of course she had.

She’d known Ruthie liked girls from… well, probably second or third grade. There were rumours surrounding her, and she’d heard most of them, but they had only served as confirmation of the instinct she’d always had. Ruthie liked girls. She probably only liked girls. She’d had a boyfriend or five, always dumped them in under a month, and once, during a sleepover, she’d quietly confessed to Sara that she’d never done anything, that she hadn’t even wanted to, and she didn’t understand what was wrong with her, that she couldn’t be a normal girlfriend.

Sara had known exactly why, but she’d known better than to say it.

Now, that Ruthie liked her? She’d guessed, but she hadn’t known it, and she certainly hadn’t woken up this morning expecting… that.

(Well, there had been that dream. But that wasn’t the same as knowing it.)

When they got back to their things at the top of the quarry, Ruthie turned to look at her and burst out, “I’m sorry.”

Sara blinked at her, and she started crying. “God, Sar, I’m so — I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, I didn’t mean to, please don’t tell anyone—”

“It’s okay,” Sara said, and grabbed her dress off the blanket and pulled it over her head. She dug in her backpack for a hair tie and tied her hair into a bun much messier than Ruthie’s. “Ruthie, it’s — it’s fine. Please stop crying.”

Ruthie stopped, wiped her eyes, and slowly started pulling on her clothes. She didn’t look at Sara as she did.

“I’m sorry,” she said miserably as Sara packed up. She’d been right; clouds were moving in and it looked like rain.

“Don’t be,” Sara said. “Please.”

Ruthie just picked up her backpack and got on her bike, spinning the pedals with her foot while she waited for Sara to finish packing. When Sara got on her bike, Ruthie started pedaling, and Sara followed.

The ride to Sara’s house was quiet as the clouds moved in above them. The air smelled like ozone, and their timing ended up being perfect; as Sara rolled to a stop in her driveway, she felt a raindrop on her arm, followed by another on her head and the back of her leg. It had been hot and dry, dust sticking to the back of Sara’s throat, for weeks; the rain felt like a welcome relief.

“See you,” Ruthie said, eyes averted, and Sara reached out, just managing to grab her arm before she could bike away.

“It’s raining,” she pointed out, and as if to prove her point, a lightning bolt flashed. Barely a second later the thunder rolled in, and the skies opened up. Sara’s almost-drying hair was soaked again in moments.

Ruthie rocked back on her bike seat, and glanced upwards doubtfully, as if she wasn’t sure that it was really raining. When she looked back at Sara, her glasses were splattered with rain.

“Fine,” she said, and followed Sara, wheeling her bike into the garage.

“My parents aren’t home,” Sara pointed out as Ruthie tried in vain to get her glasses clean. “Wanna watch TV or something?”

“Aren’t you—” Ruthie burst out, and then went silent. Behind her glasses, her eyes were unreadable.

“What?” Sara asked as calmly as she could. She knew perfectly well what Ruthie was asking, but — it scared her.

She knew, but it still felt like diving into deep water, not knowing if you would find the bottom or come back up.

Ruthie pushed past her into her house, a gesture that would’ve been rude from anyone else. Sara let her go, and followed her in.

She stood in the kitchen, and for a moment Sara just looked at her — soaked from the rain and from swimming, her hair wild and escaping from its bun, her glasses so dirty you couldn’t even see her eyes through them. How she could see anything was a mystery.

Sara had known her for a long time, and she’d always known, somehow, that this was coming. Dreams, or premonitions, or — whatever it is that means she can look at a clear sky and see the rain coming from hours away.

It felt inevitable, really, when Sara kissed her back.

Ruthie made a startled noise against her mouth as Sara pushed her back against the kitchen counter, hands braced on either side of Ruthie’s hips, kissing her like she would never get another chance. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she was hurting with want, and it felt so good that she almost felt dizzy. Ruthie’s hands had stopped flailing and settled around Sara’s neck, and she was kissing Sara back — hesitant and chaste, but still trying.

Neither of them really knew what they were doing, that much was clear. Sara broke away after the infinite first moment, and started to laugh. After a moment, Ruthie giggled as well, and hugged her, holding her so tight that Sara could barely breathe.

“You’re strangling me,” she gasped, and Ruthie broke away with a grin.

“Sorry,” she said, and kissed her again, a quick peck on the lips. Sara grinned. “Now,” Ruthie said, reaching down and picking up the hem of Sara’s dress, “want to get out of these wet clothes?”

“You need a better pickup line,” Sara said, and Ruthie laughed. She’d heard Ruthie laugh about a million times before, mostly at her own bad jokes, but she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing it here.

♥♥︎♥︎

They didn’t do much, even after Ruthie’s attempt; they kissed lazily on Sara’s bed, and when they got bored, they did get out of their wet clothes. Sara lent Ruthie some of her clothes and tried not to feel happy at seeing Ruthie in her sweater. The rain kept pouring outside, giving them an excuse to cuddle up on the couch and watch daytime TV instead of going their separate ways.

 _This isn’t going to last_ , Sara thought as Ruthie lazily finger-combed Sara’s hair, the TV playing reruns of some old sitcom. She didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but it wasn’t going to be good; this happiness was temporary, at best.

For once in her life, though, Sara was content to pretend that this would last forever.


End file.
